Philosophy
by fooledbylove
Summary: Whoever I assign to you will be your best friend for the next four weeks. You will learn why they do the things they do. Pay attention to their mannerisms- their quirks. At the end of the four weeks, you will present a speech on what you believe their reason is for existing.


It was Clay Jensen's first day taking an actual college class.

Two years ago, Clay would've gone to a community college, or somewhere within thirty minutes of his hometown out of pure fear of leaving. He wasn't adventurous, he didn't crave the college experience. He simply wanted to go to classes with other kids who actually wanted to be there, and then go home to his mother's cooking.

That was before Hannah Baker killed herself.

Hannah was the girl Clay was recklessly in love with throughout high school. She had been a free soul, open to experience. Her dream had been New York, but she died too young to ever experience that. So, Clay decided he'd live out the experience for her.

He'd been sitting at the desk in his room senior year, filling out applications to colleges all around the state. He recalled sitting at lunch that day with Hannah, and how she said she wanted to go to New York, and be whoever she wanted to be.

Long story short, Clay had lost himself.

When Hannah died, he never fully recovered. He didn't know who he used to be or who he should be. So, he took Hannah's advice and filled out an application to NYU, deciding to kill two birds with one stone.

He'd find himself, and live out Hannah's dream for her. Hopefully she was watching him from somewhere greater than this earth, and hopefully she was cheering on his spur of the moment decision.

He had bid his parents a tearful goodbye, and had settled into his dorm- he had somehow managed to get a single. He wanted to jump for joy when he found out he wouldn't have to explain to a room mate that no, he wasn't rude, just socially awkward.

Lucky for him his very first class of his college career was actually an elective he had chosen- Philosophy. I know right? Typical college kid, taking philosophy and acting like they're all deep and trying to look within.

Clay was different though, he could actually succeed in the class. He was capable of thinking outside the box, and needed new perspective so desperately. Philosophy by definition was looking into the way things work, the way people work- the universe. He thought that maybe, just maybe, if he could figure out why people did the things they did; maybe he could fix himself.

He walked across the campus with a coffee in hand- a habit he never ended up dropping- looking for the correct building. He'd left an hour early to give himself time to get lost should the situation occur.

Clay ended up figuring out a couple of things. One, the building he needed to be at was on the opposite side of the campus, so it was about a fifteen minute walk total. Two, the classroom was on the third story of a building with no elevator, and three: don't show up early for a college course.

He'd ended up sitting in the hallway outside of the room for about thirty minutes before the professor showed up, unlocking the door to let him in. He was then faced with a decision that would affect him for the rest of the year.

Where should he sit?

There were no assigned seats in college, everyone here was mature enough to pick their own. Of course seats could change day by day, but most people picked a seat and stuck with it for the year. So, did he want to be up front? In the middle? What about the back?

He was going to a university, meaning he was in a lecture hall where about a hundred students would be joining him. The benches inclined all the way to the back, almost like bleachers. So, he wasn't worried about seeing from where ever he sat. But what if he sat int he back and a bunch of morons joined him? What if they wouldn't shut up and he ended up failing the class?

If he sat in the front though, he risked more attention from the professor, which could potentially mean he'd have to speak up more. That wasn't something Clay felt capable of doing, what if he got a question wrong in front of a hundred other kids? No, he wanted a place where he could sit quietly and take his notes, which he'd go back to his dorm and study with.

So, he chose the back.

The professor, a middle aged man of no significance, took a seat at his desk. Class started in ten minutes and he hadn't said a word to Clay, the only student in the room so far. Clay had heard rumors that professors didn't care about their students the way high school teachers did, and so far that was proving to be true.

But, did high school teachers even care?

Nonetheless, it made Clay squirm when he realized he wouldn't be on a name to name basis with practically any of his teachers. He was used to being teacher's pet, having teachers wave to him in the hallway. High school teachers at least took the time to understand Clay, and it was very clear that this professor would be doing nothing of the sort.

Clay pulled his laptop out of his back pack and placed it on the small desk- like table in front of him, switching it on and pulling up a blank document to take notes on. Within five minutes, students were flooding into the classroom, quickly filling up the seats.

Clay didn't look at anything other than his computer as the seats next to him became occupied, he didn't really care to make friends.

Friends brought trouble.

At 9 A.M. sharp, the professor walked over the door, shutting it with a resounding thud.

"Good morning everybody. I am Professor Wilkie, and you've probably noticed that I don't tolerate tardiness. You will be here at 9, not 9:01. If it's 9:01 turn around and go home, because I won't be unlocking the door." He said, earning gulps from a majority of the students as they realized what a hard ass he'd be throughout the year.

"Do not try to build a relationship with me, I will not even bother to learn most of your name's. I am here to teach, and you are here to learn. Nothing more, nothing less." With that he turned to the large chalk board behind him, and started writing in big sloppy letters.

Philosophy: The study of the fundamental nature of knowledge, reality, and existence, especially when considered as an academic discipline.

"This is the textbook definition of Philosophy. The reality is, if you think about things- you're already a philosopher. This is a class for those of us who like to think more than just simple minded thoughts. This is a course for people who want to know why things are the way they are. If you aren't interested in knowing how anything and everything works, this isn't the class for you. Please leave." He stood in silence for a moment as about five jock looking guys stood up and walked out, probably assuming the class would be an easy A.

"For those of you left, get ready to write down your first assignment." He waited for the shuffling of bags around the room to stop, signalling that everyone was ready.

"We're starting with people this semester. What makes them tick? What makes people do the things that they do? Why do we exist the way we exist? I'm going to go through my role for the class, and I will be announcing names at random. Whoever I assign you to, will be your best friend for the next four weeks. You will learn why they do the things they do. Pay attention to their maneurisms- their quirks. At the end of the four weeks you will present a speech, on what you believe their reason is for existing."

Clay gulped as the professor pulled a sheet of paper from his desk and started calling names. Clay wasn't here to make friends, he wasn't a very social person at all. He could barely hold a decent conversation, let alone figure out why a person existed.

"Robert Phillips and Danny Denito." The professor called out.

"Marie James and Jake Hardy."

"Clay Jensen and Scarlett Jackson."

Clay's head snapped up as he rushed to write down the name, knowing he'd have to find this girl after class so they could get started. The professor continued reading off names, pairing off people. He came to an end, putting the paper down before he started talking again.

"Many of you probably have the impression that I'm Satan at the moment." He said, getting a few laughs from the class. "But, I'm not. We'll pick up with an actual lesson next week, for today you can leave as soon as you find your partner. Go meet your new best friend, everybody." He took a seat at his desk, watching as several students scattered about the room, trying to find their partners, while others remained seated.

Clay was one of the few still seated.

He wasn't about to fight the crowd to find Scarlett, she could've been any of these girls. He decided he'd remain seated until the crowd thinned out, and then he'd see who was left.

About fifteen minutes later, over half of the class was gone. Clay had watched with envy, seeing the kids pair up and walk out of the classroom, talking with ease.

He heard a loud sigh come from beside him, and a smack to the shoulder finally made him look to his right side to see a girl stretching.

His first thought was that she reminded him of Hannah is some ways. She had nearly the same shade of brown coating her long curly hair. Her curls were really more of loose waves though, whereas Hannah's had been a frizzy mess.

The girl's eyes were blue as well, but they weren't as light and bright as Hannah's, they had more of a dark sulture about them. The girl's cheekbones were a tad higher than Hannah's had been, and her chin came to more of a point.

Her style was even similar to Hannah's as she wore a girly romper paired with beaten up converse. Clay smiled as he saw this, remembering how Hannah would pair her old combat boots with nearly every outfit she wore.

This girl beared physical similarities to Hannah, but Clay could already tell her personality wouldn't match. Something about her gave off a grungy vibe- A don't fuck with me vibe. She looked soft and girly, but she radiated an aura that said she could make a grown man cry.

Clay was slightly terrified of her, but he didn't really know why.

The girl finished her stretching, turning to catch Clay staring at her.

"You gonna stare all fucking day, or you gonna buy me coffee, Clay?" She spoke, the threatening words sounding odd against her tinkling, high pitched voice. Clay had so far been right about her- the attire was merely to lure you in, only so you'd get bitten by her bitter personality.

"Um… You know my name?" Clay squeaked out.

"Yep. I'm Scarlett. Call me Scar." She stood slowly, grabbing her leather hobo bag from the floor.

"How'd you know my name?" Was Clay's response, as he shut off his laptop and put it in his bag.

"You started writing when the professor called your name. Easy dots to connect." She watched expectantly as Clay gathered his things, standing up only to make awkward eye contact with her.

"Jesus Christ are you slow? Coffee, let's go." She stomped past him, heading towards the door. Clay held back a groan, hesitating before walking after her.

He couldn't wait for the next four weeks to pass.

They walked to a nearby coffee shop in silence, Clay following as she led the way. When they arrived he tried to pay for her drink, in hopes that it would soften her up.

He quickly realized he should never ever do that again.

They sat across the table from each other, finding something in common with each other as they both cupped a black coffee.

"So…" Clay began. "How'd you know where this place was?"

He was met with a stare, and silence.

"Are you from here?" More silence.

"So are you not a freshman or…?" He didn't know why he continued to talk. He stared at him for a moment longer, before pulling her pen out of her bag and scribbling on a napkin.

"Your lips twitch before you talk." She said after she finished writing.

"What?" He asked, not sure why that was the first thing she chose to say.

"They did it again." She smirked at him.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"It's a quirk, is it not? Part of this project is to find quirks, and I just found one." She sipped her coffee.

"Okay, well part of the project is also to have reasoning. What's your thesis as to why my lips twitch?" He questioned, taking a sip from his own coffee.

"You'll find out when I present the fucking essay." She sat her cup down, watching as he grabbed her pen from the table and scribbled on a napkin of his own.

"I found something too. You curse a lot. Not sure why yet, but we'll find out." Clay grinned, smug that he could finally match the girl.

"I'm a freshman. I know where this place is because I moved here after I graduated high school." She said, once again saying something that had nothing to do with the topic.

"Huh?" Was Clay's brilliant response.

"Answering your questions from earlier." She explained.

"So you moved here in what- May? June? Did they let you move into your dorm that early?" He asked, desperate to keep a conversation going.

"You ask too many damn questions." She stuck a finger in her coffee which was now room temperature, stirring it thoughtlessly.

"Noted." Clay said. "But how are we supposed to get to know each other if I don't ask questions?" He reasoned. Scar rolled her eyes.

"If you must know, I don't even live in a dorm. I live in an apartment, with my boyfriend." She looked down at her coffee.

"Oh, that's cool. Does your boyfriend go to school here?"

"He doesn't need school anymore, he's rich." She smield coyly.

"Parent's money?" Clay smiled, knowing that type all too well.

"His own, actually. He graduated a few years ago, has some sort of fucking license to grow medical marijuana or some shit. Sells it." She told him in a bored tone. Two things caught Clay's ears.

He graduated a few years ago.

She didn't even really know what he did.

He sat, pondering those two things. He didn't realize how long he'd been sitting in silence until she spoke up again.

"I know you wanna ask. He's 27. That's none of your business though. Feel free to leave my relationship out of this project." She emphasized project, as if she were sending Clay a message. Of course, he still had no knowledge of women or what they meant with half the things they said.

"No that's cool, whatever you're into." Clay made a mental note about this: _daddy issues._ He wouldn't write in on the napkin out of fear that she'd see and have his balls for dinner.

"I'm finished." She said, pushing her coffee cup away from herself. "I'm leaving." She stood up, grabbing her leather bag and slinging it over her shoulder before turning away and walking out the door without saying another word to Clay.

Clay sat there dumbly, realizing it was rude not to say goodbye himself, so he hurriedly grabbed his bag and ran out the door himself. He saw that she had gone to the right when she exited, the opposite way from the school.

"Scar, wait!" He called after her, jogging to catch up.

"What?" She said without turning around once she felt him behind her.

"I just wanted to… when should we meet up again?" He changed his thought, realizing how lame it was to chase a girl down the street to say bye.

"Your dorm, tomorrow at 4." She said, turning around to see if he agreed.

"Okay. Sounds good. I'm in dorm-"

"210. I know." She winked at him as his jaw slackened.

"How did you-"

"Shut up." She instructed. His mouth went into a tight line and they stood there in awkward silence for a few minutes, as he wondered why she wasn't leaving.

"So, how far is your apartment?" He asked, simply making conversation since she was still standing there.

"About 9 blocks from here." She shrugged as Clay's eyes bugged out of his head.

"That's a long walk for a girl to take by herself in a city like this. Do you want me to-"

"Don't." She snapped harsher than she'd spoken to him yet. He abruptly stopped talking and gave her a look that told her to explain.

Surprisingly, she did.

"Let's get a few things straight. I don't need fucking babysitting. I don't want fucking babysitting. My boyfriend sees you anywhere near our building and you're dead. And, a twig like you ain't shit here in New York. Don't act like you can protect me, you can't." She listed off the reasons as to why he couldn't walk her home, spewing them out with hatred in her voice. Clay sat there, stunned. He didn't know how or if he should respond.

"I'll see you tomorrow, twitch." She said, before turning and walking away, leaving Clay stunned in the middle of the sidewalk.

He knew a couple things at this point.

Something had happened to this girl to make her so cold.

He would try to break through her walls and most likely fail.

He had another nickname.

He was entranced by someone, for the first time since Hannah Baker.

For the first time in years, he was met head on with a challenge he wanted to take- and he was scared shitless.


End file.
